Blame it on Rio!
by krystal lazuli
Summary: This is one of my stories of "Questions Not Answered"  My Fish! is another . This happens pre-POTC1 and is my version of how Barbossa ended up as first mate on the Black Pearl.     Please leave a comment or review.
1. Chapter 1

The voice, reciting the list of his crimes against the crown, easily heard over the noise of the crowd gathered to watch this event.

"For your willful commission of crimes against the crown…"

The voice droned on, reciting said list of crimes.

Alleged crimes.

"…impersonating a cleric of the church of England…"

"Ah, yes," he muttered, a grin crossing his face as his mind flashed back to that particular event. It had happened in Rio de Janeiro.

He remembered a tavern, a bottle of rum. Well… maybe more than one.

The challenge issued.

To steal the cross of Saint Sebastian, a relic of the saint who was the protector from the plague and Patron Saint of Rio.

He chuckled, recalling his victorious return. He'd won. But had he? That was what had started him on this path ending here.

_Chapter One_

He flipped a coin idly as he considered his options, not that he had many. He had his ship but no crew. That alone posed his biggest problem. Of course the fact that his reputation had not preceded him was another. No one knew him. Here he sat, Captain Jack Sparrow, and none knew of his worth, his value, his expertise at the helm. The timeliness of his deliveries, his intelligence, his ability to defend his ship against pirates. He'd never lost a cargo yet.

If Cutler Beckett walked through that door right now he knew for certain he would pull out his pistol and shoot him dead, and damn the consequences. That man had tainted his life.

Not really wanting to dwell on that series of events that had resulted in his being here in the Caribbean with a ship and no crew, he went back to flipping his coin and considering his options.

Pirate or merchant? Which would he be? Privateer was out. He would never find backers for that sort of venture.

His mind returned to the litany of his virtues. He was clean, well mannered and honest. Not exactly pirate material, but being simply a captain of a merchant ship had led him to this place. He considered pirate. His bravado would help, and of course the brand burnt upon his arm. He scowled fiercely, knowing he'd not deserved to be thus marked. Branded a pirate for refusing to transport a cargo of slaves? His fist pounded the table.

"Darlin', you look like you lost your best friend," A sultry voice purred in his ear.

He looked up at the woman who had spoken. A dark-haired creature stared down at him. She wore a red dress that had seen better days, but her brown eyes glowed with interest. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Nay lass. I have my ship, just find myself in need of a crew."

"A crew?" She laughed, her voice a pleasant sound that refreshed his jaded mind. "'At be all ye need?" She leaned over treating him to a fine view, one he'd not seen in months. He looked her over more closely. Older than she first appeared, or life had made her appear so. Lines etched her face. She'd lived a hard life but had managed to keep her figure.

"Well…" He hesitated then with a twinkle in his eye. "A bottle of your finest might be in order."

A pout crossed her face as she straightened up. "A bottle? If 'at be all…?" Her eyes strayed to another patron.

Noticing the look in her eyes, "To start of course," he grinned, a suggestion that more might be in order later.

That brought a saucy smile to her lips. "Ah, I see." 

As she turned and left, he went back to flipping his coin.

It all boiled down to the fact that he needed a crew. With no crew, the ship sat empty with no cargo. No chance of cargo. Or adventure.

Adventure.

Yes, that word had carried him away from his former stomping grounds, where the EITC ruled. Here he figured he stood to gain more because he was unknown. But being unknown, he couldn't find what he needed. No one was about to trust him. It was, he reflected, a vicious cycle.

Unfortunately the meager crew he'd managed to round up for this voyage had scattered to the four winds the instant they'd made port. So now he sat in this dingy tavern, waiting on his drink as he contemplated what his next course of action ought to be.

The saucy wench returned with his bottle. As she set it down upon the wooden table, she smiled slyly at him. She'd managed to clean up a bit he realized. She even smelled better. The dress she wore was still the same, but her intentions to attract him were obvious.

Her promptness surprised him, until he realized the value of the coin he idly flipped. Chuckling, he tossed it at her as she set the bottle on the table. Then he saw what it contained.

"Rum?" His lips curled up in distaste. The reputation of this drink had even made it to India. "Have you nothing better?"

Her husky laugh warmed his heart. "Darlin', it be the only thing 'e ain't watered down."

"Ah, that is how it is," He opened the bottle and poured some into his mug. Sniffing it gingerly, he stared into it.

"It ain't 'at bad, darlin'," She purred. "Trust me."

"Aye, well…" Lifting the mug he took a tentative sip. The smooth liquid piqued his tongue, as a taste of exotic fruits danced across his taste buds. He found he actually liked it. "It is good," He looked up at the woman.

She grinned and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. "Best in the house. Comes from Tortuga. An' if ye be lookin' fer a good crew, 'at be where ye ought to go."

"Tortuga?" Even the name sounded exciting. "Aye, Tortuga it is. But first I must find myself a crew in order to get to Tortuga. Rather hard to sail my ship by myself," His eyes scanned the patrons currently in the place. There were not many who might even pass for sailors. Most were simple folk, here to enjoy a drink with friends it seemed.

She started to lift her wooden tray to head on to another customer when she paused. "The night is yet early. Stick 'round long enough, darlin'. Some be bound to wander in 'at be lookin' for a ship."

Stomping his feet, Hector Barbossa looked back at the tub that had picked them up off the coast of Venezuela. Were it not for them, he and his crew would still be stranded. A false smile crossed his face as he waved at the Portuguese captain. Jerking around, he stalked through the pouring rain, his crew trailing in his wake.

As they wound their way through the muddy streets, he could hear his crew's rumblings behind him.

"Think we be findin' a new ship?"

"I dunno, ain't like there be much ta choose from out there."

"Aye, an' anyone know where we be?"

"Rio."

"Rio? I know this place where the girls are…"

"We be needin' a ship, not wimmen."

"Don' ye be worr't, the cap'n, 'e be sure ta find us a ship. If there ain't a good 'un 'ere, why trust 'im to _borrow_ one an' we'll go ta another port an' find us a better un. 'E ain't let us down yet."

Several of them laughed raucously, happy to once again be amongst humanity.

The storm _had _taken them by surprise. Stronger than he'd even expected, it had driven their ship into the shoals off the coast and destroyed it. They'd been lucky to survive. Now they had little swag or coin left but what they had managed to salvage from the rocky bottom while they'd waited for salvation in the form of a ship passing by.

Reaching a ramshackle building, Barbossa entered. The tavern was half-filled with people, most sitting and chatting with one another, except for one man sitting alone in the corner, a bottle of rum in front of him. Locals by the looks of it.

Water dripped from his sodden clothing pooling at his feet, but he did not care. Not seeing what he needed nor wanted, he'd considere leaving but for his crew. They'd crowded into the entry and were gawking at the women. They'd not seen a female for months. He figured it might be best to let them drink here while he scouted for what he wanted.

A slight jerk of his chin was all he required to give the orders. The tall black man who served as his boson snarled at the others. "Don't go looking for trouble," In particular, he glared at one pair, a tall lanky fellow accompanied by a short stocky chap. "Particularly you two!"

The two in question sidled past Bo'sun, for that was the name he went by, any other name long forgotten. A hint of a giggle erupted from one as he waggled his fingers. "No trouble, we shall be right over there," He pointed to a table off to one side.

Barbossa simply ignored them all. Swaggering over to a table, he sat down. The gal who'd waited upon Jack stepped up and smiled. "Wot be yer pleasure cap'n?"

His eyes traveled up to meet hers. "Now, that is indeed an interesting question, missy. Be ye certain ye wish the answer?"

She backed away slightly, his menacing tone upsetting her. "Sorry…"

"No need to be sorry," An odd smile crossed his face as he realized he had disturbed her. "We have simply run across a streak of bad luck. Rum. Followed by whatever passes for a meal here."

She let her breath out. "Seems ter be the problem o' the day," he overheard her mutter as she whirled away to get his order.

When she finally returned with his rum, he grabbed her wrist before she could take off. "Explain yourself missy."

Her eyes flew wide open. "Wot?" Practically a squeak.

"You said, 'Problem of the day', why?"

She leaned into him and smiled. "Oh 'at. Wull 'at gent in the back 'e gots himself a problem too. Just odd ta git two o' you in 'ere wif problems. Ain't often 'at 'appens, even though I told 'im 'e were bound ta find wot 'e needed."

"Really? And what is his problem?" He was curious, as he'd been studying the man. He clearly wasn't from around here. Appeared to be more of a merchant than anything, but a merchant down on his luck for he was unkempt.

"Oh, well, 'e were goin' on 'bout 'ow 'e needs a crew for 'is ship," She leant closer to Barbossa as if to tell him a secret. "Paid fer 'is rum wif a gold coin."

He threw back his head and laughed. "A gold coin?" He handed her one. "Like this?"

Snatching the coin before he could change his mind, she smiled.n "Aye! More rum?"

"Keep it flowing," He rose and walked across to the lonely man. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jack stared into his drink. Branded a pirate, he might as well become a pirate. But how did one do that? Self-consciously he rubbed the rag he had tied around his wrist, hiding the reddened mark he did not deserve. The "P" was forever etched into his skin and his soul. Rage coursed through him as he thought of the man responsible for the mark. Beckett. He pounded his fist against the table in fury.

"Having a bit of a bad day?"

The voice startled him. Jack looked up at a man who definitely embodied everything he had ever learned of pirates during his time with the company. The man standing there was tall, his reddish brown hair straggly and long. His face gave evidence of the harsh life he lived. A large black hat, and flashy clothes bespoke his profession. Here indeed was a true pirate.

"I suppose one could say that," Jack replied, curious why the man stood here.

"Care if I join ye?" Barbossa waved his arm around the now crowded tavern.

Jack had lost all track of time. The place had filled with all manner of people, and snippets of conversations in other languages added to the confusion he was now feeling. How long had he been sitting here? He glanced at the bottle, still full. . "I see no reason why you may not. My name is Jack Sparrow, and you are?" Jack still was hesitant. Why did this man want to sit here?

"Captain Hector Barbossa," the tall man bowed his head ever so slightly, then pulled the empty bench out and slowly lowered himself onto it. Setting his own bottle on the table between them he studied Jack. Finally he spoke. "So, what brings you to Rio?"

"Business," A curt response, but what else did one say to a pirate? For indeed, this man must be a pirate if one judged by his manner of dress.

"Aye, but what business?" Barbossa pursued the topic.

"I am in need of a crew," Jack blurted his need out suddenly. "At the moment. To sail to Tortuga. And you?"

"A crew?" Now Barbossa was indeed curious. He ignored Jack's question. "How did ye get here if ye didn't have a crew?"

"I _had _a crew, they only signed on to sail here. Now I find myself in need of a new crew," Jack took a quick glance around the tavern then picked up his mug and took a long drink. He was beginning to like this rum. He felt a warmth begin to spread through him, relaxing him. Here he was, in a tavern in Rio talking to a pirate. A year ago he would never have imagined this event.

Barbossa refilled both mugs. "And what be the name of your ship?"

"The _Wic…"_ Jack stopped himself abruptly. The _Wicked Wench_ had been sunk to the depths of the Indian Ocean. She no longer existed. He had been so proud of her, his first ship, one he had purchased through his earnings with the John Company. She had enabled him to pick and choose his cargo, no longer at the whim of his employer. Yet Beckett had taken it upon himself, in his anger at Jack's refusal to transport those slaves, to burn and sink her. Desperate, Jack had made a pact with the very devil himself – Davy Jones. The ship had been raised, a small crew found, and thus he found himself halfway around the world, far from the East India Trading Company's territory with a ship with a blackened hull. He groped for a name.

Black, her hull was charcoal black. "The _Black…"_ Jack hesitated.

The _Black_ what? _Sea Turtle_? He recalled the sight of his first sea turtle. No that would hardly strike fear into the hearts of men, for pirate he must be, branded as he was. How he had arrived at that decision he did not know, but it seemed right. Talking here with this man who was clearly a pirate. But he would be a pirate too! Had he not just decided that? And a pirate ship deserved a good name.

"Well?" Hector prodded him. He had been studying this man's expressions and it was clear he had come to some important decision within himself.

"Oh, right. The _Black…"_

"Ye said that already. Be she called just the _Black?_" Barbossa mocked him.

Black what? _Diamond_? _Gold_? Suddenly a vision of his last party in India, a woman dancing with a strand of the finest pearls around her neck. That was it! "The _Black Pearl," _even as he spoke the name, he felt an energy flow through him. The name _felt _right. He sighed in satisfaction. "Yes, that's it. The _Black Pearl." _He settled back in his chair, never realizing he had been sitting on the edge the past few moments.

Barbossa looked curiously at him, then poured them both a generous drink from the bottle. "Never knew a name to be that much trouble to remember," He drank deeply.

Jack simply shook his head. For some reason, he felt it necessary to keep the story to himself. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" Barbossa was finding this man fascinating. He seemed lost in some way. "No need to apologize to me. Now we have established the name of your ship and the fact that you are in need of a crew to sail to Tortuga. For what purpose?"

"Well, to get a crew I suppose. Although I would imagine if I find one here I shan't need to go to Tortuga then, will I?" Jack still couldn't get over it. Here he sat with a pirate conversing over trivial things. Well, maybe not so trivial as a crew was essential, but like they were friends. He picked up his tankard and drank. He was finding he liked this rum.

"Yes, to get a crew. And then what?" Persistent for some reason Barbossa felt a need to discover this man's true purpose.

"I suppose to…" Jack leaned back and looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening. Satisfied, he moved closer to Barbossa. "I have a plan," He did not really, but wasn't that what pirates did? Keep secrets or pretend they did? Hunt for treasure? He found this game was fun. He might like being pirate after all. Perhaps instead of shooting Beckett he might thank him.

"A plan, eh?" Barbossa frowned. Maybe he had misjudged this man.

"Aye, a plan," Suddenly Jack did not want to tell any more, primarily because he did not know any more. He suddenly realized he did not even know this man's name. His mouth twitched. How did one ask a pirate his name? Was it the same as in polite society? "You know the name of my ship, but I fear I do not know your name."

"Nor I yours," Barbossa countered with a wicked smile.

"True," Jack considered this. Realizing that the fact that no one really knew him down here might prove beneficial after all he blurted out his real name. "Jack. Jack Sparrow, rather Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Captain Jack Sparrow. Can't say as I have ever heard of you before. And I be Hector Barbossa. Captain Barbossa as it were," Though he had need of a ship, he still chose to go by the title. Maybe… a thought sparked in his mind. This man had a ship. Mayhap he might be able to find a way to commandeer it. A few more drinks, find out what his ship was like. He glanced back at his crew; they weren't too drunk yet, though that might pose a problem. He would take that hurdle when it came. For now, he needed more information. If the ship was as bad as that one they'd come in on, it might not be worth the effort.

"So, tell me about your ship," Barbossa quickly refilled their drinks.

"Ah yes," A serene look came upon Jack's face as he thought of his ship. He loved that ship like a woman. "She's a fine ship, fast. Fastest ship in the Caribbean I'll wager."

"But you need a crew," Barbossa lifted his drink encouraging Jack to do the same.

The wench who had brought his first drink appeared at their table. "More rum?" Even as she asked, a bottle was set upon the table with a sultry look at Jack.

This time he smiled back. "Ah, yes luv. More rum. Stuff grows on you."

"Aye, 'at it do," She managed to brush up against him as she picked up the empty bottle.

Barbossa chuckled as he watched her depart, her hips swaying enticingly. "Looks like ye have an engagement for tonight, mate."

"Well…" Jack grinned, his eyes following her as well. "She is rather lovely," Changing the topic. "So, tell me about yourself. Have you sailed these waters long?"

"Long enough. Here's to fine women and fast ships," Barbossa lifted his mug in a toast.

"Excellent choices. So, you're a pirate." There, he'd said it!

A laugh erupted from the man. "One might say that."

"And your ship?" Jack decided to pursue this avenue even though Barbossa was being rather reticent on the subject.

"Ah, yes. My ship. Well, she ran aground off the coast of Venezuela thirty days back. Foul weather," Barbossa snarled as he recalled that series of events.

"So you are in need of a ship too." An idea suddenly occurred to Jack. "Perhaps you would like to join my crew?"

"Join your crew?" Barbossa roared with laughter. "Now why should I want to do that?"

Taken slightly aback, Jack considered. "Well, I have a ship and need a crew. You clearly have no ship so it would make sense. Does it not?"

Taking refuge in his drink, Barbossa considered the offer. "Sorry Jack. I need a ship. Why would I want to take orders from you?"

"Because I have the fastest ship in the Caribbean and I intend to be the finest pirate in the Spanish Main," The drink was making him bolder, as he pounded his tankard down on the table splashing rum. "Sor…" he stopped himself and simply poured more rum.

"Right," Barbossa waved for another bottle. "And how do you plan to do that with no crew?"

"I shall find a crew if you will not join me. Cannot be too difficult, now will it?" Forgetting the trouble he had been having so far.

"Let's say I do decide to join you. What's in it for me?" Barbossa challenged him, his eyes glinting as he figured Jack wouldn't have an answer for that one.

Rising to the challenge, Jack countered, "Well, I do believe that we can come to some arrangement. Fifteen percent, perhaps."

The 'perhaps' did it, Jack was no pirate, at least not one with much experience. "Fifty," Barbossa fired back.

"Why would I give you fifty?" Jack questioned. I have the ship.

"And I have a full crew," Barbossa waved his arm over to several tables containing his crew. He then thought of those they'd lost. "Well, almost a full crew. Could stand to add some I suppose."

"But I have the ship." Insistent, Jack frowned.

"Granted, but fifty is the lowest we can go. That is for me, my crew each gets their share."

"Well, I do agree they ought to get their share, but I cannot go above thirty percent for the lot of you," He had to make some profit or it wasn't worth it. Although he had to admit that the very fact he had his ship was sufficient, he wasn't about to let this pirate know that.

"Fifty for me, thirty for me crew then," Barbossa countered as he reached out and refilled their mugs.

"That would make only twenty for me," How had it gotten to this point Jack wondered. Now he was bargaining with a pirate over shares. He drank more rum as he considered this. "If I were to give you all eighty percent, not enough in it for me. Perhaps I shall continue to look."

"An' where would ye be expecting to find a crew in this place? Almost a full crew no less," A new bottle had just been set by his elbow. "Ah, more rum, good."

"Yes, the rum IS good. Cannot say I've had better."

"So, we've an accord then. Fifty for me, thirty for my boys?"

"No, I never said that. You said that. I only agreed that…" What had he agreed to? His mind was getting a bit fuzzy from the rum. "Forty for all of you. You split it as you decide best."

"Forty eh?" Barbossa considered this. "Forty for me it is. Now the crew… they still get thirty, agreed?"

"You may give them thirty of your share, that is entirely your choice," Jack sat back in his chair, not realizing he had been leaning forward as the bargaining had gone on.

"No, I agreed to forty for me," Barbossa finished his drink and poured them both another round. "Besides, how do I know you are capable of finding us a prize? Let alone able to command a crew?" He issued the challenge even as he waved for another bottle of rum.

"I am more than capable of commanding a ship," Jack's nose wrinkled up as he felt slighted by that comment.

"Aye, but I can't say as I've heard of ye," Barbossa's head cocked to one side as he spoke, watching Jack closely to see how he responded.

"Been working for… ." Jack stopped. He couldn't admit to working for the East India Company, not if he were supposedly a pirate. His fingers went automatically to the rag covering the brand and touched it lightly.

Barbossa noted the movement and the hesitation. "Working for?" He looked archly at Jack.

"I meant I have been successfully transporting goods from the John Company," Jack felt fairly certain the nickname for EITC would have traveled this far. "For my own purposes of course," A half-truth, as he had been employed by them, not stealing from them. But it served his purposes to claim otherwise if he were to convince Barbossa he was indeed a pirate.

That statement startled Barbossa. He had not expected that. He drank deeply to cover his reaction. "Ah, THE company. Successful?"

"Well, I had to leave the area. That is why I am here," This was the truth. He had needed to vacate the waters the company was found in. That he implied he was wanted for piracy was entirely made up, but it fit with his story.

Barbossa considered his options. At first he had thought to simply discover which ship belonged to Jack and make off with it during the night. Now he wondered if he might be better served to pretend to join his crew and at the opportune moment lead a mutiny against him, maroon him and take off with the ship. Clearly the man wouldn't survive long on a deserted isle whereas if he followed his first thoughts, the man might chase after him. It sounded promising.

Another course of action came to mind and Barbossa grinned wickedly. Of course! If he gave him a task, something Jack would be bound to be caught at, that would leave him free and clear to simply make off with the ship. But what task? His mind whirled as he considered where they were and he hit upon the very thing.

"My crew," Barbossa spoke up again. "They won't be inclined to follow under your command, being as to how they haven't heard of ye."

"Oh," Jack had not considered that to even be a problem. "But they will listen to you."

"Aye, but I am not the captain."

"No, I am." Perplexed at this turn of events, Jack sighed deeply. "What can we do?"

Barbossa pretended to consider the problem. "More rum," He refilled Jack's mug as well as his own as he continued to 'think'. Finally, he spoke up. "I have it. You shall simply prove how good a pirate you are!"

"Splendid!" Happy to have a solution, Jack lifted his mug up to toast. Then paused. "But how can I do that without a crew."

"Simple," Barbossa leaned over the table and lowered his voice. "Steal something."

"Oh, I believe that should not pose…"

Barbossa interrupted him. "Not just anything. But something treasured. This town we be in. They have a sacred relic they keep at the church," He looked over his shoulders to make sure no one was listening in to their conversation. Even though the tavern was now crowded, for some reason there was a wide space between the pair and their nearest neighbors. "The cross of Saint Sebastian, patron saint of this godforsaken hole. Steal that! That will prove without doubt, that you are a real pirate and my crew will follow you to the ends of the earth."

Jack grinned. "That is it? I shall bring it back here in two days. But…" He waggled a finger at Barbossa. "That changes the agreement. Forty percent. Forty percent for you AND your crew."

"Done. Ye have until this time two days from now to bring back the relic. Do we have an accord?" Barbossa held out his hand to seal the deal, doubting that Jack could indeed produce the relic.

Jack reached across the table and grasped it firmly. "Aye!" Rising, he staggered slightly. "Must have had a bit more rum than I thought."

Barbossa chuckled. "Now, don't be thinking to use that as an excuse to bargain for more time."

"No, two days. Here. Now, I mean same time as now. I shall bring you the cross. Good night," He turned and swayed across the room towards the door.

He had almost reached it when the gal who'd been serving them appeared by his side.

"Leavin'?" She smiled up at him.

"Yes, I am on a mission. To seal the bargain of cross to the station," He stopped, closed his eyes and thought hard. "Not right. Steal. That's it. Steal the … steal the cross."

"Ye've 'ad a bit too much o' that good rum I be thinkin'. Come along wiv me luv."

"Right, with you. And you are?" He grasped her arm to steady himself.

"Moll. Well, Molly really but e'ryone 'ere calls me just Moll. Now come wiv me…" Slowly steering him towards the door, she led him out into the fresh air.

"Whoa!" He gasped as the cool air hit him, along with the rum.

"Right. This way…" She pulled him along and he followed willingly. She headed to the room she shared with three other girls in the building across the way. Dragging him in there, she slammed the door shut.

"Loud."

She laughed. "Sit." Pushing him forward, he stumbled and landed face down on the bed.

"Mmmph!"

She slapped his rear. "Sleep."

He rolled over and grabbed her, pulling her down on top of him. "Why?"

"Ye be drunk."

"No I am not. I am Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy. The fiercest pirate in the Spanish Main."

"An' I be the Queen o' England."

Jack peered at her. "No you are not. I have seen her and you are decidedly not the Queen."

"Wull, mebee ye ain't quite so drunk but wot on earth were ye doin' wiv the likes o' 'at gent back there?"

"Barbosser?"

"Yes."

"He and his men have agreed to crew my ship. It is a grand ship, the _Black Pearl. _Would you like to see her? Perhaps I shall find black sails for her, that would be rather appropriate, do you not agree?" Suddenly Jack remembered the agreement. "Ah yes, agree. Well, they will work only if I cross the steal of Sebastian. Do you know Sebastian?"

"Ah, so 'at be wot ye were talkin' 'bout. Yer ta steal the cross?" She frowned. "They'll 'ang ye if they catch ye even tryin'." She nestled against his body.

"Well, they shall not catch me. I am Captain Jack…" His voice trailed off to a loud snore.

"I know… Sparrow," Rolling off him, Moll stood up and straightened her skirts. "Sleep it off, luv. I shall be back." Leaving the room, she returned to the tavern.

As she entered, she scanned the crowd for the other man. She finally located him. He had returned to sit with the group he had arrived with originally.

Fluffing her hair, she tugged at her chemise and headed directly for their table. "More drinks boys?"

A balding man reached out to pinch her. Slapping him playfully, "Now, now," Admonishing him, she smiled at the others.

As before, Barbossa flipped another gold coin at her. This was getting to be a rather profitable night for her. The owner required all the girls to pay for the drinks up front at his prices. What ever they earned above the price was theirs to keep. Tonight she had made more than she typically made in a year! "Be right back." She winked and darted away from groping hands.

Returning quickly, she set down a tray that included a few bowls of stew along with the bottles of rum. This time she'd brought a more inferior drink. The group barely noticed they were cheering so loudly at their leader.

"Aye! I have found us a ship. If he manages to even accomplish the task we shall simply have to sail with him for a bit. Fool such as him shall be easy to pry away from his precious 'pearl'." Barbossa brandished the bottle above them.

"An' wot task did ye set 'im too?" A dark-skinned man with a head full of dreads asked.

"To steal the cross of Saint Sebastian."

A hush fell over his group. "Why, they'll 'ang 'im."

Barbossa swatted the speaker as he rolled his eyes. "That is the precisely the plan you fool."

"Oi! I gits it. 'E tries ta steal the cross, they catches 'im an' 'ang 'im an' we takes off wiv 'is ship!" A rousing chorus of cheers rang out from the crew.

"We's gonna git a new ship!"

"AYE!"

Having heard enough, Moll slunk away back to her rooms.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack groaned, slowly opening his eyes. Where was he? This was definitely not his cabin on the _Wicked Wench._ No wait, she no longer went by that name. What had he come up with last night? Ah, yes… the _Black Pearl._ Sitting up in the narrow bed, he grinned. He rather liked that name. He vaguely recalled some mention of black sails, or maybe it was thoughts on black sails. Either way the idea appealed to him. He determined to take action on that first thing this morning. He clearly recalled meeting with Barbossa and coming to some arrangement for him to join his crew. But there was something else…

The door opened and a woman peeked in. "Ah, ye be up at last." Entering, she closed the door behind her.

"Do I know you?" Her face was familiar but he did not remember her name. Had he slept with her and he didn't recall? She was pretty, shame if he did not.

"We ne'er were prop'ly intraduced. I be Moll, was servin' at the tavern last night."

"Ah, yes. Now I remember. How did I end up here?"

"Rum. Ye must wotch out ye don't drinks so much. Sneaks up on ye if ye lets it."

"Rum? Right…" He looked at her curiously then the events of the previous evening came back. "Ah, yes. Rum."

"But 'at be the least o' yer worries," Moll moved across the room to stand next to the bed. "'At man ye were speakin' wif. 'E plans ta steal yer ship."

Jack's nose wrinkled up. "No, he said he would join my crew."

"An' then steal yer ship."

"Steal! That's it! I'm to steal something…"

"Yes, 'e said 'as to 'ow yer ta steal the cross o' Saint Sebastian from the church. If ye e'en try, ye'll be caught and hung an' then 'e can just takes yer ship."

"Not if I don't get caught," Jack was feeling cocky now. He wouldn't get caught, would he? Besides it would be his first true act of piracy. If he was branded a pirate he might as well start acting like one. Of course that posed his first real problem, how did one go about stealing something? "Think like a pirate," He mumbled more to himself.

"Wot?" Moll stood looking at him strangely.

"Nothing, just talking to myself, luv," His mind whirled. What would a real pirate do? Wait… he WAS a real pirate now. He stood up and began to pace the tiny confines. "Think like a pirate… think like a pirate," He muttered as he paced. He stopped dead. "Do you have any paper here? And something to write with?"

Moll laughed. "I can't write! Why would I 'ave paper 'ere?"

"Can you go find some? Please?" He turned his most endearing look upon her.

She stared into his eyes, mesmerized. Finally she replied. "Mistress O'Connell's bound ta 'af sumfin' we kin use. I'll go o'er an' ask 'er. She lives right across't the way," She left the room and was gone about twenty minutes, finally returning with a fairly clean piece of parchment, a quill and ink.

"Excellent! First, where do they keep the cross? In the church?" He'd used the time she was gone to fully think out his plan.

"No, 'at be open all the time, any can walk in. I 'spect they keeps it locked up in their rooms."

"Thought as much," Sitting down at the table in the room, he quickly wrote out a short letter. Folding it up, he grabbed the candle on the table and dripped some wax upon it, sealing it with a signet ring he still wore on his hand. "Now, I want you to take this to the church and deliver it. You are to wait for a reply," He handed her the letter.

She took it from him. "Wots it say?"

His brown eyes stared deeply into hers, "Best not to tell you. The less you know, the better. Now go. I have a few errands to see to, then I shall meet you back here for their answer."

An hour later, Moll returned to her room noting that Jack was gone. Tired, she lay upon the bed. Pulling the pillow to her face, she noticed his scent lingered there. She drifted off to sleep dreaming of waking to find him back in her bed and this time _not _drunk.

Jack tended to his first errand easily. Finding a few young lads, he'd set them to dying his sails black. His second chore was a bit more complicated as he knew he had to do it without attracting any attention. He had wandered about the town's small market bargaining with various vendors for an odd assortment of items. Eventually he headed back to Moll's and let himself in.

As soon as he saw her sleeping, he quieted his movements, not wishing to disturb her. He set down his purchases then looked around the room until his eyes fell upon the response she had brought back. Using his small dagger, he broke the seal and scanned the contents, a smile of satisfaction growing on his face.

"Wot ye wanted 'im ta say? Is 'e goin'ter give ye the cross?" Moll rolled over to stare at him.

"Sorry, did not mean to wake you, and no, I did not even mention the cross," Jack tapped the letter lightly against the table.

"Oh," She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Sitting up she looked as the pile of things he had returned with. "Then wot's it say?"

"Simply that I am invited to dine with the good priest this eve, just as I had hoped."

"Yer ta dine wif 'im? I thoughts ye were goin'ter steal the cross?" She looked confused.

"Ah, but I am. After I dine with him. Might as well enjoy a good meal. Now…" He rummaged through the pile of things he had purchased. "I shall require your assistance. Can you sew? I find a few of these things are a bit too large." 


	4. Chapter 4

Moll stood back and laughed. "I wouldna believed it iffin I din't see it. Ye looks right lovely, ye do. Just like a gentleman." She admired him in his new outfit. Jack now sported a somber waistcoat over a slightly ruffled shirt, a pair of dark trousers and a stylish pair of shoes. His sailing garb had been changed for clothing more suited to a man of the Church of England.

"Precisely what I intended. Run along to the tavern. Keep a sharp eye on Barbossa. If he inquires as to my whereabouts advise him I shall be there by the appointed time… WITH the cross. And here.." Digging through his new outfit, he finally found his coins. He handed her another gold one. "See that he is plied with plenty of rum."

Before he left, Jack took care to pick up the letters on which he'd also spent considerable time during their sewing session. Tucking them into his coat, he left and headed through the streets of town until he found himself at the doors to the church.

Entering, he looked around. Several people were praying quietly near the front. A servant stood near a side door, and moving over to him, Jack bowed his head slightly. "I do believe that I am expected?" He removed the letters he had so carefully prepared and presented them to the servant.

"Un momento, señor." Taking the letters, the servant disappeared into the private area of the church. Jack took the time to look closely through the church itself to see if he could spy the item he was searching for. Not seeing it, he figured it was secured somewhere else within the church.

The servant reappeared, silently motioning Jack to follow him. They exited the church and headed back towards the private chambers of the priest. Knocking on a large wooden door, they waited until an invitation to enter was heard. Opening the door, the servant stood back to allow Jack to enter.

Slowly, Jack entered into the private rooms. Candles burned brightly, sending a warm glow through the room. It appeared empty until a sudden movement from the corner caught Jack's eye.

"Greetings Mister Smith. I was delighted to receive your note. I an eager to hear news of England." A man rose from a table where he had clearly been working on something, his English heavily accented. "Come over here, we shall sit here until Manuel brings our dinner," The priest gestured towards a comfortable seating area waiting for Jack to sit down.

Jack smiled politely and sat down. His eyes had briefly scanned the room, but afraid to look too curious, he waited for a better chance to inventory the place. "Thank you, I was happy to receive your generous invitation. I had only hoped for a simple opportunity to visit with you. Having been at sea for so long, the company and conversation of an intelligent person is always welcome. Your invitation to dine with you only adds to my delight," He found himself falling into the manners he'd used when dining with various dignitaries of the East India Company, something he had avoided as often as possible.

"I was unaware of any ships arriving recently so I must admit you caught me quite unprepared. I do hope we shan't disappoint," The priest smiled warmly. "I am Bartolomé de las Casas." He inclined his head politely. "From Spain. And your letter indicated you know Cutler Beckett?"

"Ah, yes of the East India Trading Company," Now he wondered why he had chosen that name of all names. "I have had some, ah, dealings with him in the past," At least that much was true.

"Yes, delightful gentleman, I had chance to meet him prior to being sent here. And I see you too are being posted to this region. Your note did not mention your destination," As he spoke a servant entered bearing a tray. "Some wine?" Without waiting, the servant had quickly poured wine into two elegant cut glass goblets. Handing one to Jack, Bartolomé accepted the second.

Jack smiled obligingly. This drink he considered superior to that rum he'd been offered the previous evening. Taking a sip, he savored the flavor of the fine wine. "Yes, I am heading for Tortuga."

"Tortuga? Surely you jest! I cannot believe the Church of England would waste any hope for that town," A shocked expression crossed the priest's face.

"No, I misspoke. That is our next destination. For me, I am bound for Port Royal," He grasped the name of the first English settlement he could think of.

"Ah, Port Royal. Much more civilized. I suggest when you arrive in Tortuga you remain on the ship. Not a place for the faint of heart. Filled with all manner of evil people. Perhaps one day we shall be able to attempt to tame the savage hearts that reside there. Now, have you any word as to who is to replace the current governor of Port Royal? I hear the current one is retiring and is planning to return to England within the next few months."

"Excellent advice that I shall assuredly heed. As to a new governor, when I departed nothing new had been said," Jack replied. He thought rapidly for some stories to tell of England realizing that anything he told would be months old, but for this man, stuck in the Caribbean, it was all probably new and exciting. As they were conversing, the servant came in to advise that dinner was ready. The two men repaired to the dining room to continue the discussion.

As the meal concluded, so did the extent of Jack's pool of stories from England. He rose gracefully to take his leave. "I must thank you for such a wonderful repast and excellent conversation."

Sated from both the meal and the information Jack had provided, Bartoloméwas struck with a thought. "Where are you staying whilst here?"

"I am really not certain the name of the place, some inn…," Jack waved his hand vaguely. "It was arranged for me last night. A bit noisome, but pleasant to sleep upon land for a change." 

"An inn?" A shocked look crossed Bartolomé. "There are none worth the price of any coin for a gentleman such as yourself. I cannot have you staying in one of our inns. You must stay here, I insist!"

Jack was hard pressed to hold in his excitement. This would be the perfect way in which to search for the cross! "I would be delighted."

"Come, come," Leading out of the dining room, Bartolomé pulled a bell rope. "Manuel!" The servant arrived instantly. " Prepare a room for Mister Smith at once," Turning to Jack he added. "I shall give you a tour of our humble church while he prepares a room for you."

"That is too kind of you," Jack replied, barely keeping his excitement in check. Now perhaps he would find where this treasure he sought was kept.

They wandered through the church as Bartolomé pointed out one feature after another. Jack was hard pressed to feign interest but somehow managed. As they entered each room he searched quickly for the cross, but once he was sure it was not there he smiled politely and made what he hoped were appropriate comments. It was obvious that Bartolomé was proud of his assignment.

They finally returned to the private rooms allotted to the priest. "Ah, my study. If you need to find me in the morning, I am certain to be in here."

Opening a door, Bartolomé stood back to allow Jack to precede him into the room. Jack entered and his eyes went straight to the small mantle where a cross was displayed.

"I see the cross intrigues you," Bartolomé noted Jack's interest. 

"I had, uh, heard some talk last evening about the cross," he said, hoping that would sound plausible. Jack waited for his masquerade to be uncovered. He thought he had been too obvious after all.

"Yes, it is. Saint Sebastian is the patron saint of our fine village. He is also known to protect us from the Black Death. We have been fortunate in not having a single outbreak here in our tiny corner of the world. For that we give thanks to him. We have a special festival this weekend to honor him, perhaps if you are still here you might wish to participate?"

"That would be splendid. I shall check with our captain as to our departure date. I look forward to participating, if I am still here that is." Jack smiled, hoping he still sounded interested. Right now all he wanted to do was grab the cross and leave.

When the cross was finally identified, he grinned inwardly. His disguise had not been discovered and he had found where the cross was kept. It was in a study, in full view. This would be simple, all he had to do was wait until all were asleep, sneak down here and make off with the cross.

Until then, he would need to continue with this façade of interest and small talk. All a part of his past he had detested. Right now all he wanted was to be at sea on the deck of his ship.

Mercifully, Manual appeared announcing that the room was ready. Jack followed him up a set of stairs, taking care to remember his path so he could retrace it later. Settled into his room, he looked out the windows towards the harbor. His gaze fell at once to his ship, resting quietly in the water. "Soon…" he thought.


End file.
